


holy communion

by a_fuck_it_kind_of_lifestyle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Finger Sucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, blowjob, sexy religious heresy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29930694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_fuck_it_kind_of_lifestyle/pseuds/a_fuck_it_kind_of_lifestyle
Summary: Castiel is God, and God will be worshipped. He will be worshipped in mind and body, his body and blood will be given, and will be received. Dean Winchester must prove his devotion.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	holy communion

**Author's Note:**

> in other words: that horny post going around a few weeks ago about Godstiel making Dean take communion? mhm. 
> 
> warnings: this is godstiel so it's kinda fucked up and he is "commanding" Dean so it's dub-con

He threw Dean to the ground. “Cas, what the hell’re you-” Dean cut himself off, fear in his eyes. 

“Kneel.” Cas heard himself commanding. Dean just looked at him, bewildered, until he said it again. “Kneel.” Dean got up on his knees, obediently, staying a foot away from Cas. From God. One degree of separation. The way he’d always wanted it. The way Cas could not stand. “Open your mouth.”

Dean looked him in the eye and swallowed. Cas tracked the movement of his Adam’s apple, musing on the fragility of it. Cas could snap his neck in a moment. And yet Dean’s arms hung at his sides, his neck exposed and eyes wide open. “Cas, I-” Dean faltered, then stopped again. His lips stayed parted.

Cas stepped closer to him, and it was by sheer force of will Dean didn’t flinch. He used a gentle hand to tip Dean’s head up to him. “Take communion.”

Dean had the gall to get mouthy. “I’m not Catholic.” He grinds out, careful not to move too much.

Cas almost smiles. “Catholics aren’t the only ones who take communion, Dean.”

“Well, I’m not one of those either.” Lutherans. Methodists. Protestants. Christians. 

“But you believe.” It was a question, or perhaps a challenge. God is standing in front of you, and he’s asking you if you believe. Dean gave the smallest of nods. Cas trailed his hand up Dean’s chin to his mouth, pushing two fingers past his lips. Dean let him, parting his lips slightly and not losing eye contact. Cas used his fingers to tip Dean’s mouth open. He took them away then, and Dean’s mouth chased them, only giving up when Cas glared. Cas turned his wrist over and pushed the vessel’s sleeve up, exposing bare flesh. He retrieved his blade and brought it across his wrist, shallow and painful. He turned it back over and lowered it, dangling the wound over Dean’s mouth. “This is the blood of God, shed for you.”

Dean looked at him with wide eyes and did nothing. “Cas- what-” A drop of blood fell from his wrist onto Dean’s lips. He made no move to change that.

Cas tilted his head. “Take of this, holy communion.” he ordered, holding his hand more steadily over his mouth. 

Dean let another long moment of eye contact pass before he sat up a little further and took Cas’s wrist in his mouth. 

His mouth was gentle, reverent even. He kissed Cas’s wrist, his tongue flicking out to lick away the blood, sucking on the thin skin. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut and he let himself drink Cas in, tilted his head back and sighed against the flesh. When his eyes opened they were looking Cas in the eyes. Cas’s breath stuttered in his mouth. He pretended it didn’t, pretended he was unaffected by the steady pull of Dean’s mouth against his cut, but it wasn’t true. A white hot twist of want sprung from the action, sprung from all the parts of Castiel there still were in the body of God, and leaned into Dean’s touch. 

Dean took hold of Cas’s hand then, framed his wrist with gentle fingers, and, maintaining careful eye contact with the Ghost, he reached to his other hand. To the knife. Cas pulled away then, uncertain. Dean’s hand immediately stopped its movement. Instead, Dean moved his mouth down past the shallow cut that had stopped its bleed, that stung without Dean’s lips protecting it. He let his lips wander to Cas’s palms and laid sweet, worshipful kisses there. It was then Castiel saw what he meant to do, and he laid the knife in his hands. 

Dean took it and, light as can be, pressed the sharp edge to the tip of Cas’s fingers. Castiel tried to pull his hand away, hissing at the small pain that somehow was magnified by the situation, but Dean’s grip on his wrist held him fast. Dean trailed his tongue down and took two of his fingers in his mouth. 

“Holy father, forgive me my trespasses.” Dean muttered, pulling off for only a moment to flip Cas’s hand over. Castiel didn’t bother to tell him that this was the Lord’s prayer, that this was not communion, because it was worship. And that was Castiel wanted, after all. 

“As I forgive those who’ve trespassed against me.” Cas’s voice sounded hoarse, worn, but soft, though his whole mind was whispering  _ Dean, Dean, Dean betrayed me.  _

Dean sensed the tone and flicked his eyes back to Cas. His lips, still adorned with a drop of blood, hovered near Cas’s fingers once more, and Cas longed for the heat of his mouth. “Lead me not into temptation,” He pushed Cas’s fingers to the back of his throat. 

A sharp spike of heat struck Castiel in the depths of his stomach. He dragged in a ragged breath and repeated, “Lead me not into temptation,” Although he did not know who he was praying to. And he did not care to be led away.

The pads of Cas’s fingers felt the back of Dean’s throat, and Dean choked around him but did not let go. He pushed Cas deeper, pulled himself closer so he was almost kneeling between his feet. His lips stretched beautifully, flushed pink and red, and Cas wanted more. He wanted to hear Dean gasp and choke and moan, all for him. 

He didn’t realize he had a hand in Dean’s hair until he’d pull him off. Dean looked up at him questioningly then, a flicker of doubt in his eyes.  _ Is this okay, is this what you want, is this good?  _

Castiel shivered in the wake of his tenderness. He released Dean’s head and pulled back his hand, and then he waited. Dean understood. 

“Blood and body,” he whispered. “Body and blood.” he sounded almost awestruck. Castiel waited.

Dean’s hand went to his belt. Cas held his breath as Dean undid his belt, let it hang uselessly at his sides, unzipped his pants noisily. Then he looked up for permission. Cas swallowed heavily. “This is my body, given unto you.” 

Dean pulled his pants down and took him in his mouth. 

Cas bit his lip to hold back a gasp. Dean’s mouth was just as warm and inviting as he’d always imagined it, and he took Castiel in his mouth like it was a gift. Which, he guessed it was. Dean wrapped a loose fist around the base of Castiel’s cock, holding him in place as he bobbed up and over his head. His tongue teased the underside of Cas’s head, making him twitch and hitch his hips closer. Dean sucked the precome from him. He groaned around Cas when his hips involuntarily moved toward him, pushing him deeper into Dean’s mouth. While his first hand kept a maddeningly slow pace jerking his cock, he took Cas’s balls in his mouth. He was now almost completely under Castiel, his nose poking into his rough hair as he sucked. Castiel’s breath came in shudders, he concentrated most on trying to stay standing, pressing his nails into his hip where Dean’s other hand steadied him until it hurt. 

“Dean,” he couldn’t help the prayer fall from his lips. The weaker part of himself, the part that had pleaded with Dean in the middle of the night, that had stared at his sleep-rucked hair and chapped lips and wished, it took over now. He gave himself over to Dean’s act of worship. He lost himself in the soft tug of his mouth. He fucked himself into Dean’s hand, and then into his mouth again, and after Dean let his hand drop, he pushed himself deep into Dean’s throat. He felt the tip of his head knock against Dean’s soft palate, and though he felt Dean tense and shift around him, uncomfortable, he did not pull away. “Dean,”

“Yes, Cas?” Dean’s mouth made an obscene noise when he popped off of Cas’s cock, a string of spit still connecting them, and he looked up at him with sex-wrecked heat hiding his freckles. He looked beautiful. 

Cas shook his head. He was losing his coldness, but Dean was gaining heat. It was worth it. It was worth it. “More.”

The ghost of a smile played at Dean’s mouth. He took Cas back into his mouth without another word and increased his pace. It was debilitating. He wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist and grabbed handfuls of his ass so he could push Cas into his mouth, and he hummed and breathed heavily around him like it was a dream come true. Cas was knocked off balance thrusting, his pants still pooled under his knees, and he shuffled a leg forward to steady himself. Dean gasped. 

Cas looked down. Through the course of the communion, Dean had moved closer and closer, and when Cas shifted his leg between Dean’s, Dean thrust his crotch against his shin. “Cas,” Dean moaned desperately. He rutted up against Cas’s leg for friction and took Cas in his mouth again and swallowed down another moan, and Castiel came. 

Dean wasn’t prepared for it and he choked on him as Cas shoved into his mouth, but Cas couldn’t stop. His world exploded in white and when he opened his eyes again the world had gone dark, glass from the light bulbs raining down on them. Dean pulled off with a huff, come dripping down his chin and mingling with the blood that still stained it. 

It was the time for Dean to make a smartass comment, but he kept his mouth closed. He rested his forehead on Castiel’s hip and sucked a bruise into the skin, licking over it lightly and moving on with his tongue and his teeth and his lips. It caused Cas’s cock to twitch tiredly, but this wasn’t for Castiel now, it was for Dean. Cas could feel it in the way Dean hauled himself up to straddle Cas’s leg and grind up against his shin. It was pitiful, and a terrible angle, and it gave him little friction, but he tried. 

Castiel, in his infinite mercy, helped. He grabbed a handful of the back of Dean’s shirt and pulled him up a little ways. Dean whimpered and hung onto his shoulders. He let Dean undo his zipper and pull his own cock out of his briefs, and he let Dean moan against his chest as he fucked against his thigh. His rhythm was sloppy and uneven, but it was skin on skin and it was friction, and Dean leaned into it. He fucked him roughly and without shame, his own precome and leftover spit the only lubricant between his cock and Cas’s leg and crotch. Cas gasped when he slipped and thrust into the space next to his softening cock, rubbing them together, and Dean hurriedly apologized until Cas held him tight. He liked the frenzied, almost painful arousal it sprung up in him, still spent.

“Cas, Cas, I want-” Dean breathed, head turned up against Cas’s stomach so he could see him. “I want-” 

Cas shushed him, feeling his thrusts become more erratic, feeling him getting close. Dean was begging, he was begging him, and there was a tear slipping from his closed-tight eye, and he was moaning. He was beautiful, and Cas wanted to give it to him.

“Whoever eats of my flesh and drinks of my blood remains in me and I in him.” Castiel recited breathlessly. Dean came with a moan, eyebrows drawn tight, hands clinging to Castiel’s legs.

“Thanks be to God.”


End file.
